don't say goodbye
by ifonly13
Summary: The heavy ball of dread settles in her stomach, growing heavier and heavier until she hears the news. :: For Jenny. Happy birthday, babe.


_For Jenny, on the occasion of her birthday. A minuscule, subpar token of appreciation for everything you've done for me. Thank you._

* * *

"You know, sometimes I worry about the health of your lower lip," he says, lifting up the thin sheet and sliding in close next to her. "Always biting at it cannot be good at all."

Kate hums, releasing the reddened skin from her teeth as she reads. Not quite ignoring him but also not giving him her full attention, focused on the autopsy report.

It used to be strange. Case files in bed, photographs of brutal murder spread out over their sheets like an extra blanket. She brings work home to pour over while in the comfort of a pair of underwear and a shirt that constantly slips from her shoulder and reveals the ridge of her collarbone. And even away from the precinct, he finds ways to distract her. Setting his mouth to work at her bare legs or that teasing line of her chest above the neckline of her top.

She leans forward, snagging the photo of their victim from the medical examiner's office and looking it over. Searching for something she missed earlier while staring at the same information hung up on her murder board.

"Kate?"

A raise of her brows is the only response he receives.

"You're doing it again."

"Don't you have a book to edit?" she asks around her lip on purpose, pushing papers around until she finds the report from the uniforms on their canvass of the neighborhood.

Castle scoots closer, disrupting the layout of her faux board to run his thumb over her mouth. "Nope. E-mailed the final manuscript to Black Pawn yesterday afternoon. _Fading Heat_ is now out of my hands."

Kate leans back against the headboard, flipping through the report. "Good. That's... Yeah..." she trails off as she continues reading.

She doesn't notice him gathering up the files, tapping them into line and stuffing them back into the manila folder. Not until he takes the canvass report from her hands and adds it to the pile.

"Hey," she protests, clambering over him to grab at the file. "I need that!"

"Not right now," he says, dropping it all on the bedside table and turning back to her. "Right now, I think you need a break."

His mouth is soft against the side of her neck, distracting as he nips at her. He sneaks his fingers under her shirt, skating lightly over and around her belly button before moving down to the waistband of her underwear.

"A break, huh?" she asks, her voice thin as she fights the desire to arch up into his touch.

He speaks into her skin, the vibrations zipping along her chest. "Need to relax."

Castle pulls at her shirt, waiting for her to tilt forward so he can work it up over her head. She looks down just as he does; she never gets tired of seeing him see her, his eyes widening as his thumbs brush over her peaked nipples.

His mouth follows the path of his hands, teeth closing over her right breast just tightly enough to make her gasp before his tongue soothes the sting. "Feeling less stressed yet?" he asks, hardly moving his smiling lips from the swell of her breast.

"Yes, definitely," she sighs, sliding down on the pillows as he swings his leg over her hips, his ass pressing her raised knees down onto the mattress.

"Good," he says as he sucks at her stomach while working off her underwear, tossing them off the side of the bed. He hooks her legs over his shoulders, teasing his tongue against the crease at her thigh.

He goes slowly, excruciatingly gentle when he lowers his mouth to her. His left arm settles over her hips to hold her down as he slips two thick fingers under his mouth and into her slick heat, curling them sharply. Her heels digging into the muscles of his back and her hands tangled in his hair, keeping him against her until, with a short scream, she comes apart.

Castle doesn't give her a moment to pull herself back together before he crawls over her. His fingers are still sticky with her when he links them with hers, holding the back of her hands on either side of her head. He uses his knees to lift her off the bed just enough that he can push into her.

She can't stop the whimper that escapes as he thrusts into her, his weight preventing her from doing much more than hooking her heel over his ass. It does not take him long, her body already wound tight with her last orgasm, to get her to the edge of another release. He keeps her there, strung out and writhing under him, until she starts to beg, teeth scraping over the sweaty skin of his shoulder.

"Please," she cries, tipping her head back into the pillow. "Please, Castle."

He frees one of her hands and she stretches it down between their bodies to rub firm circles at her clit until her body tenses and lets go, taking him with her seconds once she falls.

"Off," she gasps, shoving him away from her so she can pull in a full breath after a few minutes have passed. She wipes the back of her hand over her forehead, pushing her hair back. "Book's done."

"Yeah," he breathes into the pillows, edging over until he can toss an arm over her waist, tickling her.

She turns her head, reaching over to feather her fingers along his temple. "You okay with that so close to the wedding?"

"It's hard. Endings are always hard," he says, rolling onto his side, dragging his hand over her stomach. "But I'm happy with this one. For the first time, I'm happy with an ending."

"Because you got your muse for good this time?" Kate teases.

He pinches her side. "Not entirely. Because all of the characters are happy. Nikki and Rook are ━"

Kate claps a hand over his mouth, halting his words. "No spoilers. But," she says with a laugh as he kisses her palm, "you need to talk to Gina" ━Castle groans but she pushes on━ "about the book tour dates."

"Tomorrow, okay? I'll stop by before the precinct and tell her we need the time off around the wedding."

"Thanks," she whispers.

* * *

In the soft spill of morning sun, her hair falls over her shoulder, the soft curls of her ponytail brushing against his chest as she presses a kiss to his slack lips.

"See you later," she whispers, fingers attempting to smooth out the cowlicks in his hair. "Love you."

He grumbles something, still asleep as he rolls over, his body chasing hers even while unconscious.

Kate shrugs on her jacket, looping the light scarf around her neck. She slips her finger through the key ring and closes the door gently behind her even though the quiet click won't wake him.

She drives in early enough that the traffic isn't tangled up in midtown on the way to work. Snagging a parking spot just a block from the precinct, she forgoes the coffee shop on the corner, willing to wait for a decent cup until Castle comes in with the large from their favorite cafe. Until then, Kate rides the elevator to the fourth floor and beelines for the break room to start up a pot for the floor.

With her cup of subpar coffee warming her hands, Kate studies the board. It still doesn't make sense, especially since she didn't really get to look at the case file last night. None of the facts line up and she wishes that Castle was here to pull things together for her, not showering and heading in to tell his publisher that he needs time off to get married.

"No Castle today?" asks Esposito when he arrives, taking in the mug of coffee rather than the take-out cup.

She shakes her head, sitting on the edge of her desk. "Stopping by Black Pawn this morning to arrange the book tour around the wedding."

"Good. Maybe we can get some work done without you two making goo-goo eyes at each other," he teases on his way past her to get his own coffee.

"We don't make eyes at each other," she mutters over the top of her mug.

Ryan joins them, later than the start of shift for the past few months since Jenny has the early hours at work and someone needs to get Elizabeth to pre-school. He eyes the empty space at her side where Castle would be but doesn't say a word as he starts on the financial statements.

Around eleven, they finally manage to connect the victims through a dating service they both used. Kate takes Esposito with her to talk to the owner of the site, leaving a note for Castle on her keyboard telling him to call her when he gets in.

The dating site headquarters are in a swanky building in midtown, all frosted glass and bold red accents. Despite taking out her badge and flashing it along with the soft sparkle of her engagement ring, the owner attempts to set them up until Kate makes a point of mentioning that she's getting married in a few months and the guy starts paying attention to their questions. He brings them over to the IT department and begins to pull up their user registration data, trying to connect the men that the two victims were both matched up with.

Kate's phone rings as she reads off the usernames of their victims.

"Excuse me," she says, handing the list to Esposito and stepping out into the hall. The number comes up as unknown but she answers it, leaning against the silvery grey wall. "Beckett."

The woman on the other end is soft-spoken when she asks, "Is this Katherine Beckett?"

She stands up straighter, a heavy ball of dread settling in her stomach. "Yes."

"There's been an accident and we need you to come in to Bellevue, Miss Beckett," the woman says. "As soon as possible."

"Can I ask what this is about?" she questions, already pacing back to the IT room.

"I'm sorry, but I can't give out that information over the phone."

"Okay," she says. "Okay, I'll be there in fifteen." She pushes the door open, barely stepping inside. "Espo, I need to go to Bellevue. You good getting a cab back?"

He nods, moving toward her. "Bellevue?"

"Yeah. Got a call and there's been an accident." Before he can ask, she shakes her head. "I don't know."

"I'm coming with you," he says, taking the print-out from the IT guy and tugging her down the hall with a hand at her elbow.

She drives, hands tight on the wheel as she navigates lunchtime traffic to the hospital. Esposito is silent next to her but she can feel his gaze on her, reading her as she pulls into the emergency responders parking. Kate hopes that she looks calm while crossing the street to the automatic doors but she's thinking one thing: Castle hasn't called saying he got to the precinct.

The emergency room waiting area isn't crowded. Still, it reeks of sweat and cough drops as she walks to the front desk, sliding her badge onto the counter. "Detective Kate Beckett. I got a call to come in."

The young woman at the computer looks up. Immediately, Kate feels the lead ball creep up to her throat from the look of sympathy on the woman's face. "Oh yes. Um, let me call the doctor," she says, picking up the phone and dialing an extension.

Five minutes of nervous pacing later, an older woman comes down a hall and walks over to Kate and Esposito. "I'm Riley Andrews," she says, holding a hand out. "If you'll come with me, Miss Beckett."

Esposito nods, sitting in one of the waiting room chairs.

The room that Dr. Andrews brings her to is sparsely furnished. Three chairs and a pair of side tables with a lamp that casts soft light onto the walls and a box of tissues.

"Please, sit."

Kate makes herself sit down, swallowing hard. The ball of fear doesn't budge, stuck at the base of her throat. "What's going on?"

"About an hour ago," Dr. Andrews begins, "we received a patient who had been shot. An ambulance was called to the scene when a bystander phoned 9-1-1. We transported the victim as quickly as possible but we lost his heartbeat..."

She doesn't hear the rest. As soon as the doctor confirms the gender of the victim, she knows. She knows it's him and nothing else matters.

"It's Castle, isn't it?" she asks. But she already knows.

Dr. Andrews nods. "Yes. We did our best to revive him, Miss Beckett, but the bullet hit his heart. No matter how quickly we worked, we couldn't stop the bleeding."

Kate curls forward, the grief pressing down her the top of her spine until she slides off the chair to the ground, her body listing to the side so the chair supports her. The leak of tears is slow, wetting the tips of her fingers as she tries to hold them back.

"I'm so sorry, Miss Beckett," she hears the doctor saying. "Is that man in the waiting room a friend?"

She sighs something that must sound like "yes" because then the doctor says that she'll be right back.

"Kate, what's ━"

"He's dead, Espo," she manages around her palms. "He died."

With the lightest touch of his hands to her arms, Kate tips closer until her forehead rests in the slope of his shoulder when he sits in front of her and her hands grab for the material of his shirt and she shatters across the tile floor of the tiny room.

* * *

She starts the day like any other. Wrapped in a towel with drops of water trickling from her hair under the edge of the olive green terrycloth, the clock telling her that it is approaching ten in the morning, and a file spread out over their bed.

Her fingers smooth over the edges of the glossy photographs. She doesn't see the stain of blood on his shirt or the frozen surprise in his eyes. She doesn't mind reading the medical examiner's report, every detail of his death mapped out. She doesn't need to read the words from the witness or family statements; she memorized the sentences long ago.

Kate sees the mystery she cannot solve. Not even after four months.

Sitting in bed with case files isn't normal anymore. It isn't just bringing home work to mull over until he distracts her, no longer a fun way to break cases and then crawl over him and celebrate with the press of her body against his. It's as near-obsessive as she's been since her mother's case.

Normally, she wakes up at three, showers, then spends two hours staring at the same information, praying something jumps out at her. She goes to the precinct and works the cases that land on her desk. She makes sure their closure rate balances out after the dip it suffered with his absence and her grieving. She comforts the families of victims, all too aware of how painful the loss of a loved one feels. Then she goes back home, forces herself to eat something for dinner, and falls asleep on his side of the bed where, she has convinced herself, the pillows still smell of him.

And repeat.

Today is different.

When the alarm goes off at ten, Kate slides off the bed, careful not to disrupt the file papers as she goes to the closet. Her hand hesitates at the knob, taking a deep breath before opening the door. His clothes line one side of the closet, pressed dress shirts followed by his jackets, pants, and a rack of ties.

If the scent of his shampoo and cologne on the pillows is purely psychosomatic, the lingering detergent on the clean clothes is anything but. It hits her, making her step back until her shoulders touch the doorframe. She lets her lungs acclimate to the memories before she grabs her leather jacket and ducks back out, shutting the door quickly.

Kate dresses quickly. Dark jeans, a pale blue t-shirt with a deep v-neck, and his favorite leather jacket of hers. She zips up the heeled boots. Her hair dried in kinked-up waves but she doesn't bother fixing them, knotting it back into a bun on her way out the door.

Fall moved in to the city early, a chilly breeze cutting down the streets but the trees along the street still cling to their green leaves. She bypasses the coffee shop, the one he would run out to when the coffee machine in the apartment was broken. Broadway is crowded but she doesn't mind. Navigating her way through the people gives her something to think about and focus on until she can make the right onto Warren Street.

She slows down for the last five minutes of the walk, shoving her hands into the pockets of her jacket. An elderly lady holds the door to Barnes & Noble open for her and Kate thanks her quietly for it. The display is in front of her, the black lettering bold against the white cover. Before she can turn and run, run back to the apartment and the safety there, Kate picks up a copy and goes to the cash register to pay.

"You a fan?" asks the boy who holds the book under the scanner.

Kate nods tightly.

"Sad," he says, swiping her card and handing it back, "what happened to him."

She repeats the gesture, afraid that her voice would come out choked and weak. She hasn't had to talk about him to strangers yet, only her friends and Burke. The bag handles crinkle when she takes them from the boy, hardly hearing him wish her a good day as she escapes back out into the street.

Without looking in the bag, Kate hails a taxi and settles back into the seat on the ride to the outer boroughs. When the driver parks at the gates of the cemetery, Kate pays him and slides out of the cab. She throws away the bag, cradling the book against her chest as she starts the walk among the gravestones, her boots sticking in the soil.

His sits in the shade of an oak tree. Polished granite along the sides and front with the top left rough and raw. The inscription is simple: his name and words describing the jobs he held nearest to his heart - father, husband, and son. Kate rubs her thumb along the band of her engagement ring, the metal cold with autumn. They never got to be married, never got the chance to grow old together despite the arguments.

The pain of a life they never had haunts her as she sits at the base of the tree. Her fingers trace his name on the cover of the book, the raised edges soft and giving under her fingertip. Still, she wishes that she was running her fingers over the laugh-lines that always formed in the corners of his eyes when he smiled.

"Hi, Castle." Her voice is whisper-quiet, nearly taken away on the breeze before it can become real. But she pushes on. "They published the book today. Ironic, huh? That they pick our wedding day to publish this last novel?"

She curls her legs up, her right thumb smoothing over the edge of the hardcover.

"They went with black and white on the cover. You'd be sad, I think, to know that Nikki doesn't look even remotely naked this time around." She doesn't mention that the only reason Castle's fictional version of her isn't nude and holding her gun strategically is because the figure is dressed in a wedding gown. The veil a pale grey across the sleek cover, a bouquet of flowers hanging at her side.

Kate pulls her gaze away from Nikki, angry that her alter-ego is allowed to have her happy ending while the real-life detective is left talking to a gravestone instead of preparing for her own wedding.

"Your mother and Alexis are doing okay. Martha's staying in the Hamptons a lot. Alexis is teaching at Columbia. Physics. She's the only female professor there, Castle, and you'd be so proud of her."

She pulls in a shaky breath, moving closer to the granite until she can rest her forehead on the side. "It's me you wouldn't be proud of," she breathes into the stone. "I need you, Castle. I don't have an anchor and I'm drowning." She doesn't try to stop the tears, letting them fall onto the book cover. It takes her a moment to wipe the wet tracks from her face. "You never shared your dedication with me this time around. Must be pretty good."

Kate shifts, her shoulder pressed to the gravestone. Needing to be as close to him as possible. Her fingers shake when she opens the cover, the glue of the spine cracking a little. She flips past the inside cover to the third page.

Everything aches when, an hour later, she gets up from the ground. It hurts more to say goodbye again even when she knows she'll be back in a week.

She knows what she needs to do. Not just from the visit but from the way his words, familiar and warm, wrapped around her heart and provided a cooling balm for the burning sadness. The way she could almost hear him in her ear, telling her how to re-anchor herself.

The loft is empty when she unlocks the front door, the clatter of her keys in the bowl echoing in the living room. The space still intimidates her without the loud piano music from Martha or Alexis reading off notes while studying at the table. But she can't bring herself to move away from the place that he had shaped into a home, one that he had then invited her into.

She balances on the bed to take off the boots, tossing them toward the closet before facing the papers strewn over the sheets. Before she chickens out, Kate begins to pull the papers together into one pile. The reports and pictures and statements and paperwork. She carries it all into the office, dropping it onto his desk so that she can drag the shredder closer.

It takes half an hour to get rid of everything. They're all copies; the real file stored in Records down at One PP, but Kate shreds them anyway. The confettied paper gets tossed into the fireplace in the kitchen. Kate stands with her back against the counter and watches the mystery catch and burn.

She showers for a second time, pulling on just her underwear and crawling into the cleared bed. She wedges his pillow into her lap, propping her arms up as she opens the book for a second time. Her fingers rub at the dedication again, the ink smeared from her tears.

_Thank you, Kate. For everything._


End file.
